I cannot believe my sister is doing this to me again. Another day, about to go hang out with my friends when my sister starts begging me to take her along. Now, my first instinct is to ignore her and leave her behind but the evil eye my mother throws at me, which reads, “Don’t you dare Ashley,” sends all those thoughts flying out of my head. With my sister in tow, we start to head for the entrance of the mall (it’s about two blocks from our house), the place my friends and I had decided to meet. As I predicted, their faces dim as we approach. Heather, my best friend, is the first to say something.

“Does she have to come with you every time we hang out?” she says.

I feel my face turning crimson.

“I know right? I don’t care if she’s your sister, next time you bring her along we won’t ask you to hang out with us anymore,” says my friend Lindsay.

I have no idea why Meg always wants to hang out with us anyway, especially since my friends obviously hate her doing so. I look down at her; she’s on the verge of crying. My friends never disguise their hatred for my sister; in fact, every time my sister’s around, they insult her or say bad things about her right in her face. I know you’re thinking, why don’t I stick up for her, after all, she is my sister? You see, my life’s not that simple. All my life I’ve wanted to be popular; the person that gets invited to every party, has lots of friends, is liked by everyone. When I became Heather’s friend in high school, I also became really popular, something I’ve always wanted to be. The bad thing is that if Heather doesn’t like you, she will make your life a living hell, something she is bound to do if I stick up for my sister and ditch being her friend.

“Hello? Are you even listening? We are done giving you anymore chances. If this happens again, you are officially out of this clique,” says Heather.

“Ok, I promise it won’t happen again, next time I will just leave quietly without Meg finding out about it,” I say guiltily.

My friends are satisfied. We start to stroll around the mall when Heather comes up with a plan.

“Let’s ditch Meg quickly when she isn’t looking,” says Heather when Meg is a few feet away from us, examining a sweater.

Lindsay, seeing my expression, says, “Come on Ashley, it’ll just be a game. We’ll find her again after an hour.”

I agree to this, convincing myself that it’s “just a game.” As Meg’s trying on that sweater in the fitting room, we make a break for it and run across the mall, where we’re sure she won’t find us. An hour passes by and no one suggests to go look for Meg (I’m too scared to suggest it myself.) After a while, we see a huge crowd forming at the top floor of the mall directly across from where we are. Everyone’s gasping and looking panic-stricken.

My friends and I rush toward the crowd and I almost faint when I see what’s caused all the chaos. It’s Meg, lying facedown in a pool of blood, knife in her hand. As soon as we see her the paramedics arrive, obviously someone called 911 when we weren’t here. I start running toward them calling “Wait that’s my sister! What has happened to her?”

I start to become hysterical. A man next to me puts his hand on my shoulder and says calmly, “This young girl here has just committed suicide; I saw it happen. She took a knife and plunged it right in her heart saying something about a girl named Ashley. I tried to stop her but it was too late.” A girl named Ashley? Heart hammering, I told him I was Ashley and asked him what he’d heard Meg say about me.

“It’s not pretty.... it went something like ‘Ashley, I hope you’re happy, choosing your friends over me. I’ll save you from the burden of doing it again’... and then she took that goddamn knife and plunged it right into her heart.”

Oh my god, she died and it’s all my fault. I hadn’t been there when she needed me and now it’s too late. Speaking of friends.... yup, they’re gone. All of them. I had ditched Meg and not Heather to avoid my life from becoming a living hell, I never realized what my actions had made Meg’s life become.

I watched the paramedics try to stop the blood from pouring out of her body but I knew it was too late, she was already dead, and it was all my fault.